It started a week later than normal this year because we had a nicer winter but this morning it was particularly bad because the last few days the boys allowed themeselves to believe that spring had sprung and this morning there were two very grumpy boys trudging through the cold (cold being relative compared to yesterday) and damp weather this monrning in boots. Kaleb’s “whole day was ruined because he couldn’t wear the outfit that went with his spring coat and runners) and Joshua was just annoyed that it wasn’t either snowing or sunny but just sort of in between yuckiness.
I always get my walk in first thing in the morning, so part of it is spent with the boys as they start their day, after leaving them at school I go on and finish the walk and as I walked yesterday I couldn’t help but empathize with them. All the way to school I listened to the groaning and I felt their pain. I hate winter, in particular I hate winter that is not snow but not warm, I hate the wet, dismal, slushy cold and I hate the dark. This winter has been so lovely that it seems awful to compain about a few days of yuckiness but it’s leading me somewhere so stick with me.
I left the boys, grabbed a coffee and started my walk. As I walked I thought about them and the growing feeling of unrest that comes at this time of year, the time of year when you can taste spring, smell it on the breeze, feel the suns rays warming, and the evenings get lighter, longer. It’s not here yet, but it’s coming.
Life is like that, I feel like I am in that space right now, the almost spring place, I can see it, the lighter days, the warming sun, the dry bright days but then I am reminded that winter isn’t quite over, there are threats of snow, there is the anxiety that tomorrow it will be cold again. The nights are long enough and dark enough still to remind me that we are not fully into spring. I do not yet fully trust the warming days, I still hesitate when hope springs up in the form of sunshine because I fear that winter will strike back in a final free for all at the end of the season, those april blizzards that jump out at you and make you want to weep. The seasons, all four of them have a purpose, a reason, a beauty to them but they also have an end and in the midst of the winter season I have been in for the last few years I have forgotten that; I have forgotten that I have not woken up in the land of eternal winter. Spring is coming. There is hope, longer days, sunnier moments, sunny, vitamin D filled moments await me, the beach and the hot sand will be at my feet and rest will come. It’s just about holding on.
The first time I ever really heard or paid any attention to Psalm 40 was when I heard the song by U2: